Sometimes ministry in Philly really sucks

Sometimes ministry in Philadelphia really sucks, plain and simple. It may be the same everywhere else, but I am in Philly, and it just seems to be so hard.
Philadelphia has a tradition of church division. Division exists, and has existed, just about everywhere, pretty much since the beginning (see the New Testament for reference) but Philadelphia seems to have a special history of division. Some trace it back to the Quakers (sorry to blame them, but I don’t know any, so it is pretty safe), others think it is just the irony of the “City of Brotherly Love”. We even joke about the absence of major gang culture in Philadelphia being a sign of the great division, that even the gangs can’t function in Philadelphia.
Philadelphia is a city of neighbourhoods (hundreds officially named, thousand unofficial), a city of micro-communities, a city of streets that people won’t cross, at least on foot. The church reflects this division with little in the way of networking, few significant gatherings of churches, not a lot of communication, and a whole lot of very lonely people in ministry.
It is into the midst of this I stepped with CityNet, not naively, nor overly confident in my own abilities, but with excitement at the opportunities to tell great people in ministry about other great people in ministry, to tell the lonely that they are not alone, to point out the amazing work of the Holy Spirit throughout the city. Some days I function merely as the ministry Yellow Pages, people calling me to find out about someone, something, some service they need. Other days I am an encourager of the discouraged. Sometimes I just sit in meetings where I have no real role to play, except to listen, and pass on to others what is happening. Some days I am a counselor, and a teacher, and a student. Most of all I am here, still here, not going anywhere, connecting people together, on a small scale, but seemingly used of God.
Then I have days like today, and ministry in Philadelphia sucks. The day began well, then got better. I was blessed to watch some of the “Elders” of the city discuss ways they could work together, learn together, struggle together. I had pretty much nothing to do with the meeting, but they invited me anyway, knowing I like that kind of thing (and that I have “networking” and “partnerships” in my job title). It was a great day. I missed the dedication service for the new Esperanza Health Center site, something I have been waiting seven years for, but I knew they would understand, and this meeting of the “Elders” was a big deal, the beginnings of some big things, I believe.
Then it happened, like so often in Philly, you get “the call”. This to me is a mark of my time in Philly, “the call”. Or should I say, “the calls”, for they happen a lot. In analyzing some of the reasons Philadelphia is a difficult place to minister (and I am not just saying this because I am here) one thing has always stood out to me, and that is that we receive more “bad” calls then “good” calls. I hear more failures than successes, more defeat than victory, more loss than gain. It is burdensome, wearying, draining and disheartening. I was taught early on by the great servant Sue Carter that we should never claim the praise of success in ministry because we will never be able to live with the pain of failure. She said that after so many years working with marginalized youth in Kensington. Well, wouldn’t you know it, I forgot that lesson, once again.
I had just done some really great stuff, at least in my own reckoning. I had pulled off a meeting that people probably thought I couldn’t. I had gotten people to the table others thought wouldn’t come. Things were going well. I was very proud of myself, I was pretty good at this connecting thing after all, I had found my place, and people would now be coming to me with due respect. As you no doubt see, the problem was the big “I” in all of that. It never has been what I could do here, only what God can, and does, do. I am a mere spectator, taking credit where I can. Of course the “call” would come, it always does, because this is Philly, it is what it is.
The “call” was followed by the “email” (and more and more it is the “email” that comes, but I will still refer to it as the “call”). Things were starting to fray, people were going back to their “safe places”, and division was coming, as it always seems to in Philadelphia. My first reaction was, of course, self pity. If this fails, what will people think of me? My new found respect would be lost; my ability to connect would be called to question. Yes, if I owned the success, I need to own the failure. So, I need to quit, pack it in, and move on. I never really was a connector, not popular enough for that (more self pity), nor good enough. I saw where my mistakes were, where I failed, where I sinned, and most importantly where I would fail again in the future. I am just not good enough to make it here. Then I began to weep, as I do now, but my tears aren’t for me, they are for this city, this broken, divided city, full of some of the world’s most gifted people. Populated by selfless servants, talented and gifted men and women, sacrificial saints, who need to know they are not alone. This is a beautiful place, a fact my daughters often remind me of, for they have different eyes then I do. This place, Philadelphia, is a place of hope, a place of love, a place of joy. I miss seeing that, tainted as my own eyes are.
So, what does a connector do when his connections aren’t working? What does a networker do when he can’t get people to work together? The same thing he did when he failed in youth ministry, and in economic development, and church development. He remembers how big his God is, how amazing Grace is, and gets up the next day to begin again.
I love what I do, when I remember who I really work for. I love what I do, when I remember who it is that makes lasting change. I love what I do, when I remember where I have come from. I especially love what I do when our great Saviour wraps his arms gently around me and whispers that He too cries over this city, and that He will take care of it, for that’s His job, not mine.
So I am sure this won’t be the last time that I feel ministry in Philadelphia sucks. Nor will it be the last time I take credit for what God is doing. Nor will today be the last time a receive one of “the calls”. But for now, this is my place, these are my people, this is my home. I love it, I love what I do. Great things are happening, and I get to point them out. In a city divided for centuries, some walls are coming down, some people are talking to other people. Setbacks will come, failure will happen, pain will result. But pray with me, as we move forward, that in our times of affliction we will draw close to one another, as One Body, not turn on each other, but embrace, hold unto, support, encourage and love each other. Pray that the day will come, and soon, that Philadelphia will be known as the city where the people of God function as One.